


baby steps, bazzy

by zeejacks



Series: disabled baz [1]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Affection, Baz Needs A Hug, Baz’ Limp, Blood, Domestic Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow, Eating Disorders, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Gen, Human Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Medical Procedures, Mental Health Issues, Mild Angst, Mobility Aids, Physical Disability, Sad Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Smoking, Touch-Starved, Vampire Science, Vampires, Violinist Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, baz is touch starved, penelope bunce is awesome and smart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-28 04:14:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17780357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeejacks/pseuds/zeejacks
Summary: when simon and penny drag baz to dr. wellbelove to finally treat his leg, they get more than they expected. now including: vampire science, the importance mental health, and extreme fluff!





	1. Leg Day?

**Author's Note:**

> okay so it’s been brought to my attention that baz’ leg is actually healed in the book, so my bad. BUT let’s pretend that didn’t happen, yeah?  
> anyway this is the first fic i’ve written in like five years so puhLEASE gimme constructive criticism :))) the chapters will probably be a little short, and i mimicked rainbow’s pov style, so let me know your opinions on those too!

**BAZ**

Waking up after Snow wasn’t unusual for me. He got into the early-bird habit during our school years, largely out of paranoia about me. I didn’t really care when he left the room at ass’o’clock in the morning, but I did grow curious over the pattern.  


Seeing as I faked sleep many times when insomnia hit (and possible nocturnalism? I did and still know jack about vampires), it was easy for me to pinpoint the time of his habit and follow closely behind. My gag of disgust when I saw him inhale the first spoonful of straight butter nearly negated my **_Vanished Into Thin Air_** spell.  


I stayed in bed after that.  


So, I wasn’t surprised to wake up without him lying in bed next to me. I let myself slowly drift into consciousness over the course of multiple minutes, just taking in the pure _Simon_ smell that saturated our pillows. Light sounds from the kitchen and living room fully enforced the feeling of warm bliss. Smiling, I rolled to my side and prepared to join the land of the living (well, almost). I should’ve known the bliss wouldn’t last.  


Immediately, a teeth-grinding ache shot up my thigh. I paused all movement to take stock. Unfortunately, the reason I was only feeling pain in my thigh is because I wasn’t feeling in anything below that at all. Groaning in frustration, I rolled my eyes. Hurray! It’s another Leg Day. And not in the healthy, work-out sense. Silently directing my thoughts towards the heavens, I wondered why such innocent happiness had to be ripped away so quickly. Was it too much to live in domestic softness? … Perhaps I was being a little dramatic. However, my leg being a bitch is a totally valid excuse!  


Sighing, I used my arms to lift my leg from under the knee. When I escaped from the numpties and the coffin, I had some initial concerns over this. Luckily (or maybe not...), I am an expert at ignoring my own problems. Although, I had to admit, the steadily increasing amount of numb-ache-limpness days was mildly alarming. My leg still had a deep soreness most of the time, but high pain tolerance is a virtue. The numbness came and went, usually tied to how long I’d been awake. What really drew my attention, however, were instances like this. Days in which I would just wake up, and without warning, boom! Walking impairment. Snow and Bunce were working with me and my emotional allowances, but I couldn’t help but feel embarrassed. I often kept these times to myself, not letting myself move around much and give myself away.  


Today was different, though. Typically, the ever-so-present ache remained, and the numbness was rather difficult, but I could manage to mask my struggle by changing the angle someone was looking at me from or leaning against a doorframe. Today? Today was debilitating. The pain felt about the same, but it was as if my leg was entirely unattached. I haven’t felt this challenged since the first weeks after my return from being kidnapped. It was as if my leg had atrophied all over again. There would be no deception today.  


Standing, I quietly groaned again as my muscles stretched painfully. I leaned against the bed for balance, and then groggily made my way into the common area. Snow and Bunce were chatting about something or other, and I paid them no mind aside from a sleepy peck on Simon’s cheek. He grinned at me, making me almost forget about my discomfort.  


“Hey, darling,” he said softly, pushing a cup of warm, creamy coffee into my cold hands. I smiled at him and rested my head in the crook of his neck. Bunce made a distressed comment along the lines of “Really! First thing in the morning? You guys have your own room _all night_!” Snow chuckled, the vibration in his chest warming my own. He shifted his weight in the direction of my bad leg, suddenly dislodging me from his comfort as I lost my balance. I quickly stuck my elbow out and caught myself on the refrigerator, sloshing a little coffee from the mug onto my hand. At the same instant, Snow reached his hands out to steady me by the shoulders. He had stopped laughing.  


“Woah, Baz, you alright?” I avoided his eyes. I already knew I had no hope of hiding from him, but it was still my instinct.  


“Yeah,” I said unconvincingly, “I’m just going to sit down for a second.” A nod towards the couch and an excruciatingly obvious limp over to it, and I had a moment of peace. Even though I couldn’t feel it while standing, putting any weight on my leg was incredibly tiring.

**SIMON**

My heart ached as Baz’s eyes shot downward and he switched from content to conflicted. Hearing his unsuccessful reassurement wasn’t surprising--he’s trying, but it’s still hard for him to be honest. Hearing him say he was going to “sit down for second” was surprising. Baz didn’t really “sit down for a second.” More of a “I’m going to stand here, in position, for as long as anyone is nearby,” kind a guy. Watching him drag his bad leg the long way over to the couch, then, made a lot of sense.  


Penny and I shared concerned glances, and I made my way towards my boyfriend. The coffee had been forgotten on the side table. He had draped himself onto the sofa, his head tilted back and his eyes closed. His face looked pinched, and my heart ached for the second time in as many minutes (far too many times). I sat down in the small gap left in the corner with my wings opened and lazily stretched around us and the couch. Turning and running my hand through his silky hair, Baz leaned into my touch.  


“Hey babe,” I said, as tenderly as I could. Baz hummed almost inaudibly in response.  


“Leg Day?” He nodded. I made a sympathetic sound and leaned down to kiss his forehead.  
“C’mere.”  


Baz quickly obliged, repositioning his body so that he lay flat of the sofa, head in my lap, good leg hanging off the side and bad cushioned on the arm rest. I continued stroking his hair, trying to provide comfort to the best thing to ever happened to me. 

**BAZ**

Despite the strain in my outstretched leg, I found myself relaxing in the safety of my Simon. After a time (I lost track of the minutes), I felt a pressure on my leg. My eyes snapped open and I looked down, only to be greeted by the big brown eyes of Penelope Bunce. I raised an eyebrow.  


“Bunce?”  


She lifted something into my field of vision, which I now realised was what had been the source of the contact. A heating pad.  


“I think it may help you to use this,” she said, matter of factly. “The heat should reduce numbness, and help the muscles relax. Help you where magic won’t.”  


I found myself smiling fondly.  


“Alright.”  


It took her a few tries, but she eventually set it in the perfect spot--the underside of my upper calf. Then, she did magic (Literally!).  


**_“Some Like It Hot!”_ ** Bunce cast, sending a wave of instantaneous relief through my entire limb. I think I sighed out loud. With how pleased Bunce looked, the evidence certainly pointed towards that.  


“Better?” Snow asked from above. I nodded.  


After a few seconds, I felt myself tearing up. My eyes were closed again, but I reached out for Bunce’s hand when I felt her getting up to move. I blinked a few times to keep my eyes dry, to no avail. Looking up at her bespectacled face, I saw her gaze soften. That only made me more emotional. For Crowley’s sake, what am I, a hormonal teenager again?  


“Thank you,” I surrendered after a moment. My grip on her hand was very light, just to grab her attention, but she didn’t let it fall. Bunce leaned down and brushed a stray bit of hair out of my eyes.  


“Of course, Basil.” I could tell by her tone that she understood how much I really meant my gratitude. Also, I’m sure that was it was a stark contrast from my not-so-subtle tendency to be a dick.  


Snow watched on, beaming at the soft interaction. I knew it warmed his heart to see Bunce and I growing closer. Thinking about the two of them made my eyes wet again, so I kept them closed. My heart was so full these days, it was nearly as if it beat again.

**PENNY**

Basilton was fascinating. On top of that, he was a clever, troubled, funny asshole. And below that, he was the biggest softie and dumbass I’ve ever met. I used to think that Simon was the dumbass of their relationship (Simon is the dumbass of most relationships, romantic or no). Now I’ve come to realise I couldn’t have been any more wrong.  


Watching them talk, you wouldn’t be any the wiser. Baz staying the night, moving in, learning to accept vulnerability-- that was a whole different ball park. On more serious topics I had either been a part of or had overheard (don’t blame me-- these walls are thin!), he was a right idiot. Although Simon had his own concerns and issues, he typically had the correct idea: simplicity. I wanna date you? Then let’s do it! You aren’t comfortable with this? That’s totally fine! Normal Simon brain processes. Who knew it would be so handy in a romantic relationship? Well, I suppose Agatha would, but that didn’t really work out, did it?  


Baz, on the other hand… Baz was a royal mess. Every time an issue came up, all of his insecurities resurfaced: constantly worried he was going to hurt Simon (or more recently, me, which made me blush), years of conditioning himself into thinking he was a monster, his severe habit of putting others on a pedestal, trust issues... the list goes on. Simon definitely had a point in trying to get Baz to visit his therapist. Basil had a bad case of Chronic Overthinking Everything Disorder.  


This sudden shift in how I perceived Baz was odd, to say in the least. Seeing him hurt and honest and _human_ caught me off guard a lot. While I don’t excuse his actions in the past, I understand them, which is more than I’d ever thought I’d say.  


The feeling I felt when he so gently took my hand and thanked me for a basic kindness-- that was definitely more than I’d ever thought I’d feel.  


I locked eyes with Simon. So many things were hurting Baz-- his boyfriend, my friend--and I’d be damned if I let one more stay unattended in under my roof.


	2. That Damn Dad Energy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two chapters in one day!! this one’s a bit longer :)

**BAZ**

The trip to Dr. Wellbelove’s clinic took a suspiciously short amount of time (Bunce would frequently speak just low enough that she was covered up by the music, playing dumb when Snow or I asked her to repeat). Snow wore a wing-vanishing pendant that allowed him to sit in the front, giving way for my outstretched leg in the back. Bunce drove. 

Pretty immediately after she gave me the heating pad, Bunce called Dr. Wellbelove. He’s really the only doctor I would trust not to expose me to the magickal world, but that’s exclusively based off of Bunce and Snow’s affirmations. Since his clinic is small and he largely treats magickal maladies, we got a same-day appointment. 

Typically, I would be irate that someone had scheduled anything for me without my input, but I trust Bunce and Snow. It’s been proved to me time and time again that, when it comes to things I’d rather suppress, letting them in and letting them help is the way to go. I’m not exactly the best at self-care. 

We arrived at the clinic around 2:00, about 45 minutes after we left. It was pleasant and cozy. House plants framed a petite receptionist at the front desk. When he saw us enter, he cheerfully smiled and directed us towards the waiting area--a few chairs lining the wall on one end of the room. He quickly stuck his head into an office, presumably Dr. Wellbelove’s, and alerted the resident that we had arrived a little before the appointment time. I don’t think he would have done that if he hadn’t seen me walking so pathetically (I literally dragged my limp leg through the door). 

We waited only a few seconds, before a tall man wearing a white coat stepped out of the office. He smiled, and I was hit by the striking resemblance to Agatha. 

“Ah, Simon! Penelope! It’s good to see you,” he loudly greeted, stepping forward and holding his arms open for a hug. Bunce launched herself at him, always the one for hugging and physical contact. Snow was slower, but accepted the embrace warmly. I watched on. I suppose they had probably grown somewhat close to Agatha’s father, visiting her family most holidays. It would be hard not to get close to him--he gave off such a strong _dad_ energy that it was almost intoxicating. I couldn’t fathom my father acting even remotely similar. It was definitely easy to see why the two of them were so adamant about how trustworthy Dr. Wellbelove is. 

Letting go of eachother, Agatha’s father lifted his eyes away from Snow and Bunce (both of whom were so tiny that they had seemed to be completely engulfed in his huge hold) and moved them to me. I still sat on the edge of a chair, letting my leg extend straight outward. His face grew more professional. 

“You must be Basilton,” he declared, passing Snow and Bunce and crossing the room to greet me in a few long strides. I nodded curtly and shook his hand, feeling reserved in his strong and startlingly warm presence. He offered his hand to help me stand, and I was obliged to take it. As I stood unsteadily, I also couldn’t help but notice that Dr. Wellbelove was taller than even me. I glanced nervously at Snow, who gave me an adoring and reassuring smile. He and Bunce followed behind as we were lead into an examination room. 

Closing the door behind us, Dr. Wellbelove grabbed a clipboard that had been waiting at the ready on a counter. I hesitantly took a seat on the table (which, benefits of a small clinic, wasn’t covered in an annoying sheet of paper). The good doctor sensed my unease and smiled at me. At the same time, Snow rested his hand over mine, rubbing his thumb over it. I relaxed a little bit, and I think they could tell. My anxiety was nearly tangible. 

“Alright, Basilton. Any allergies or pre-existing medical conditions?” 

I shrug. 

“Allergic to garlic. And.. Being a vampire?” 

Snow snorts and I give him a dirty look. Wellbelove writes it down. 

“Do you smoke or take any drugs?” 

I felt mildly offended at the drug part, and wanted to refute. 

“Ah, yes,” I said instead, clarifying, “I smoke.” 

I think Dr. Wellbelove had a hint of disapproval on his face, but I’m not sure. He moves on. 

“Okay. What seems to be the problem?” 

Biting back a sarcastic response at the cliche question (I was still feeling rather nervous), I inelegantly gestured towards the slack leg. 

“I, ah, can’t really walk. Or use my leg. Or feel it.” 

Crowley, I don’t even remember the last time I had sounded so gauche. Although I never really meant what I said back in school about Snow’s lack of eloquence, I really felt sympathy for him now. My hand, which had shifted to hold his, tightened on his warm grip. 

Dr. Wellbelove seemed sympathetic as well. 

“Where specifically?” He asked. “Is there any pain accompanying the numbness?” 

I nodded again. 

“An intense ache, in my thigh muscles. The only reason it doesn’t hurt anywhere lower than that is because it’s entirely numb, I think,” I said, the words coming back to me. The doctor nodded, jotting it down onto his clipboard. 

“Difficulty moving the ankle, knee, or hip?” 

“Ankle and knee, yes. Hip, no. When it gets a certain amount of numbness, I have no control over my knee and below.” 

Dr. Wellbelove looked mildly concerned. He asked me to describe the timing of these episodes. He asked if the pain was constant. Then, if there was any swelling, whether the leg was cold to the touch, etc. I answered his questions as best as I could for the next few minutes. Finally, he looked satisfied as he glanced over his chart. 

“I would like to test your range of motion,” he said, looking me in the eye. “Although, I must warn you, it may cause a considerable amount of discomfort. Are you alright with that?” 

“Sure?” I responded unconvincingly. 

Dr. Wellbelove kneeled on the ground in front of my legs. 

“I’m going to move your leg in different positions. I want you to keep me updated on anything you feel, especially if it’s painful,” he explained. I agreed. While he slipped on some latex gloves, I glanced at Snow and Bunce, who had been silently observing the entire ordeal. They both looked terribly interested. 

“Well?” The doctor said from below me. I looked down at him. 

“Well what?” He raised an eyebrow. 

“You don’t feel this at all?” He asked. 

I looked further down at my foot, where he was already holding my heel and lifting the foot up and down. He continued to forcibly flex it, trying to get a reaction. It was odd to watch, considering I had no idea he was doing it before I actually saw him. As he moved his hands up my leg, I followed with my eyes. Still, I felt nothing. As he reached the knee, he set one hand on top and lifted my lower leg with his other hand behind my calf, swinging my leg. Again, I had no sensation until my knee bent on the trip back down. I exhaled sharply, and Dr. Wellbelove stilled. I could feel Bunce and Snow’s gazes trained on watching my facial expression. 

“Describe your pain,” the doctor requested. My face was still twisted up in response to the position my leg was in. 

“Really strained. It feels like there’s something there that doesn’t leave any room to bend my knee,” I said, only a trace amount of pain in my voice. Dr. Wellbelove let go of my leg and I relaxed again. 

“I would like to screen for any growths, swelling, or clots that may be obstructing blood flow to you lower leg,” Wellbelove said. Without waiting for any response, he disappeared for a brief moment. He returned wheeling a computer in front of him, various devices on top of the cart. I glanced at the other two to gauge their reactions. 

The doctor sat down in a chair and rolled the machine next to me, asking me to roll up my pant’s leg. As I complied, I resisted voicing a rude “ _Why?_ ” He rubbed a small amount of a clear gel onto his gloved hands and motioned for me to lay my leg on his lap. The ointment was uncomfortably cold, but I stayed still out of pride. He pulled off the gloves once there was a thin layer over my entire thigh, knee, and upper calf. Meanwhile, I felt hyper-aware of my mostly bare leg in his lap, and avoided eye contact with everyone. 

Dr. Wellbelove grabbed a small device and pressed a few things, causing the machine to hum to life. He adjusted some unknown settings, and set the head of the device against the skin of my thigh. He thoroughly made his way down the entire expanse of my leg. Ultrasound images appeared on the computer’s screen, creating a view of my leg from the inside out. Bunce and Snow crowded a little closer, just as fascinated as I was. My eyes darted back and forth between the screen and the doctor. I didn’t spot anything odd, but Wellbelove seemed to, because he was making a very concerned face. 

Eventually, he set the smaller machine down, and allowed me to clean off my leg. He stood upright and wrote a few things down, sighing. He looked thoughtful. Snow unconsciously squeezed my hand a little tighter. 

“I believe you have a DVT, or Deep Vein Thrombosis blood clot, Basilton. I assume it was created as a response to some trauma, like a torn muscle. It’s been there for some time, considering the damage to your nerve endings from lack of circulation. I have to admit, I’m not sure how the damage is not more substantial. I believe it has to do with the, er, lack of life in your anatomy,” he explained after a moment, looking unsure at the end. I glanced at Snow, trying to keep my reaction undetectable. I don’t know a lot about blood clots, aside from the fact that they can be life-threatening. I know they make me choke (the one time I drained a fox that had a bad one in its arm is one of the most disgusting memories I have). Whatever it means for me in the long run, I had no clue. I wasn’t even sure if my blood moved around my body at the same rate of a normal person, considering that my bloody heart didn’t even beat! 

Dr. Wellbelove clearly had the same questions in his mind. Bunce had informed him of my _situation_ over the phone, and he seemed to be taking it pretty well. It must’ve helped that he had time to prepare beforehand, rather than if he had found out when we walked in. 

“In most cases, the problem would have been much more severe with your timeline. There’s still a chance that the blood clot could detach and make contact with vital organs, like your lungs. However, I would like to run some tests to examine the true nature of your body’s circulatory system. It is, evidently, greatly influencing your symptoms. Technically, you shouldn’t be able to use your leg at all at any point in time!” The doctor rambled, clearly fascinated at the prospect of satisfying his curiosity (and let’s be honest, mine as well). I made eye contact with Snow, who glanced at Bunce, who both looked back at me. 

“You up for that?” Snow asked me, the love pouring through his eyes. 

“Sure,” I assured. Dr. Wellbelove nodded, excited. Crowley, I could really see Agatha in his expressions. He walked out the room with a quick, “Be right back!” the door shut behind him, and it was quiet among Snow, Bunce, and I. 

“A blood clot?” Bunce exclaimed, worriedly. I assume she probably knew much more about them than I did. My confusion must’ve shown on my face, because she launched into an explanation. Or, more of a rant. 

“Blood clots can be lethal, Baz! Why didn’t you visit a medical professional months ago? I don’t want to freak you out, but this is really serious! Who knows what your vampire-weirdness could do with this!” 

I looked down at my lap while she spoke. Snow rubbed my back. Bunce sighed and sat down on the table next to me (With mild difficulty-- she’s much shorter than I). 

“Look, I’m just worried. It’s probably not that big a deal, but someone’s gotta be concerned about your health if you aren’t,” she said, softer this time. 

“Do you think it could be _bad_ , though?” Snow asked her from beside me, anger riding close. He hadn’t spoken much since we got here. He tends to get quieter when he’s stressed, because the words don’t come out right for him even when he’s relaxed. As they spoke tensely, he wrapped his arm around me. Suddenly, I felt all the pent-up guilt over this entire situation flood into my mind. I crossed my arms across my midsection and slumped forward, trying to keep my face from betraying how overwhelmingly awful I felt. My hair helped me out by falling around it like a curtain. My mind was working at a million miles an hour and, Aleister Crowley, I really fucked up this time. Of course, again. I should have paid more attention to myself, and now Snow and Bunce are distraught because I couldn’t be considerate enough for one bloody second to think about the consequences. 

“I’m sorry,” I said lowly, voice catching just slightly. I wanted to say more but I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to keep composure. 

I could hear Snow and Bunce stop in their tracks and focus on me. There was an immediate change in mood. Where there would have been Snow’s magic in the air if it had been years ago, now there was his palpable concern, only making me feel lower. My face scrunched up involuntarily and I tried so hard to straighten it back out. Bunce laid her hand on mine and Snow began rubbing my back again, his other hand coming to rest on my far cheek. A strangled sob made way from my throat, not from the shame, but from all the affection I was receiving. My instinct was to pull away, but I couldn’t keep myself from taking in their comfort. Just months ago I still would’ve flinched at any of their touches. It was so bizarre to me, so foreign, I didn’t know how to handle it. Luckily, Bunce and Snow understood that about me, and made sure to shower me in their love regularly. 

Simon turned my face towards his, which was hard to see through the tears in my eyes. I swallowed heavily. He mumbled quiet endearments, he rubbed his thumb in circles soothingly. He rested his forehead against mine, practically channelling his love into me. 

“ _Oh, Bazzy. You’re okay, darling. I’ve got you, babe. My baby Baz_.” 

We stayed like that for a few moments, until Dr. Wellbelove returned, carrying a brace in his hand. He didn’t say anything about Bunce and Snow’s close proximity or my blotchy face as he showed me how to put it on and adjust the fitting. The slight relief it provided distracted me from my distress. He went on about wanting to do some tests, to know exactly how to treat this better and any ailment I may come across in the future. I nodded along absent-mindedly. 

Soon, we were moving out of the cramped examination room and following Dr. Wellbelove down the hall. I secretly marvelled at how much easier it was to walk. I still limped, but I didn’t feel nearly as unsteady or insecure in my footing. The compression gave the illusion of a bit more sensation in my lower leg. Snow and Bunce were eyeing my walk, but I didn’t feel as vulnerable as before. In complete honesty, I felt a little proud at the sudden improvement. I looked back at Snow, and I think I failed to keep a neutral face, because he grinned widely as soon as he saw my expression. Merlin, he shone like the sun. I almost bumped into the back of Dr. Wellbelove, distracted by the perfect radiance that was Simon Snow. 

**SIMON**

Baz’s face as we walked down the hall melted some of the tension I was feeling. Watching his own legs move, he looked like he had forgotten what it was like to feel secure in a simple task. He tried to keep his face smooth, but I could read his eyes after living with him for nine years now. There was a childish excitement in his expression. I physically couldn’t stop myself from grinning, feeling his happiness suck the anxiety from the air. Our eyes met and he blushed slightly (he must’ve fed last night, with how much color his face had been showing today). His lips were parted just slightly, threatening to turn upwards. There was a glimmer in his eyes that wasn’t as familiar as it should be-- genuine pride. He stumbled slightly and nearly crashed into Dr. Wellbelove. Caught off guard, he had a precious surprised look on his face. 

I love him so much. 

**BAZ**

We ended our short trip in a larger room. The shelves on the walls were lined with medical testing equipment (or at least, I presume). There were a few chairs lined along the wall. They looked like the weird reclining ones you sit at when you go to the dentist (I only know that from TV. I haven’t been to the dentist for as long as I can remember) (It’s not like I really need to anyway-- my antiseptic saliva makes it to where I don’t even need to brush my teeth). Dr. Wellbelove guided me towards one, and I sat down tensely, propping my leg straight out. I felt too vulnerable to lean all the way back in the chair, so I waited until it’s necessary. I watched with unease as the doctor messed with a few metal contraptions on the nearby counter. Snow looked as nervous as I felt, but Bunce looked like she understood what the tools are. She glanced at me and noticed my apprehension. Stepping closer to me, she pointed at the things Wellbelove’s had laid out on a tray (unnervingly similar to the devices displayed on trays in movie torture scenes). 

“Relax. It looks like he’s just taking some blood and maybe doing a biopsy,” she soothed. 

“Right. Obviously,” I responded snarkily. Bunce rolled her eyes. 

Dr. Wellbelove turned around to face us. 

“Don’t worry, Basilton. She’s right-- I only plan on taking a few milliliters of blood and performing a dermal biopsy.” 

I nodded, not mentioning that I didn’t know what a biopsy was. Wellbelove pulled a strange, fabric-plastic pump-thing from his white coat. I stared at it. He rolled a chair over from one of the counter desks, sitting down beside me and looking at me expectantly. I watched him cluelessly for a second before asking, “What?” 

Mildly surprised, he asked for my arm. I handed it to him silently. He wraps the plastic-y part around my upper arm, securing it with velcro. He squeezes the pump and the pressure builds in the wrap, until it reaches an uncomfortable level. I squirm and Wellbelove looks at me from the corner of his eye. 

“Do you know what this is?” He asks like he already knows the answer. 

Feeling a little embarrassed, I wordlessly shake my head. I looked towards Bunce and Snow, to see if they’re as confused as I am. I wasn’t surprised to find that Bunce isn’t-- she tends to know a lot of things, especially Normal technology. I _was_ rather surprised to see Snow looking at me in shock. I quickly turned my gaze back to my lap, even more embarrassed. 

It’s not that I think Snow is dumb; he is one of the smartest people I’ve ever met, even if he doesn’t think he is. I don’t even think that I’m smarter than him. It’s just.. He tends to be clueless. And medical technology is definitely not one of his interests, so whatever this pump thing is must be common knowledge. Among all of my anxieties about visiting Dr. Wellbelove, feeling ashamed over not knowing what the tools were was not expected. 

“When was the last time you visited a medical professional?” Wellbelove asks, acting as if he’s just making small talk while he jots down notes and sterilizes a needle. 

I shrug-- which is evidence of Snow’s influence on me. Half of his sentences are shrugs. I clear my throat and elaborate. 

“Ah, aside from my birth, I’m not sure if I’ve ever been to a hospital. My parents took care of most things at home and I haven’t exactly been able to since.. Since I turned,” I end awkwardly. This entire visit has been awkward and not my best memory. I’m starting to grow tired and I just want to go home with Snow and Bunce, but I am interested in finding out about my own species. Might as well get it over with. 

While no one was making fun of me before, they definitely seemed more understanding after I explained my lack of medical expertise. It helped my embarrassment the tiniest amount. 

“That’s alright,” the doctor assured. “It’s a good thing that’s not the case anymore!” 

He smiled encouragingly at me. _Crowley_ , the dad energy has returned. My face relaxed marginally and I exhaled through my nose, nodding. 

**SIMON**

Watching Baz feel so out of his depth in someplace as routine as a clinic was saddening. I wanted to hold him and take care of him and dote on him, coddling his every need and teaching him self-care. He looked at me, and I didn’t have time to control my face-- he saw my expression and instantly looked away, hiding his face with his hair. I’ve learned to learn how he misinterprets the world. A pessimist and insecure man at his heart, he tended to perceive many things as worse than they really were unless the true meaning was set in stone. That’s why I never beat around the bush-- I say exactly what I mean. I’ve never shied away from telling him how much I love him. 

Baz doesn’t tell me he loves me: he shows me. I think saying the words is really hard for him. I think he tries, but they don’t come out no matter how hard he does. I understand-- I have plenty of experience with words not coming out. I understand that he loves me. He shows me. 

He writes songs for me. I didn’t know he wrote them at first; I didn’t know they were for me. I found the sheet music while he wasn’t home. He likes to play from memory, but the original sheet music was undeniably in his handwriting. Tens of pages, all filled with different pieces, all titled “ _Simon_ ” in his thin, swoopy print. I can’t read music, but I spent probably an hour staring at the little notes. Even I could connect the ups and downs of the melodies to the ones I had heard him play so passionately and tenderly. I cried a lot that day. 

A few times a week, I’ll wake up early in the morning to find that Baz has already left to hunt or has accidentally stayed up all night. Every single time, there’s a note. _Good morning, love._ The messages vary, but they’re all equivalent in their sappy-ness. I don’t care how cheesy they are; I never fail to smile until my cheeks hurt. Sometimes he leaves gifts with them. 

Baz may not be able to tell me that he loves me, but he shows me that he’s in love with me. 

So, I make sure to tell him that I love him every day, show him every second, and shower him wholly and completely in certainty that I love every part of him. I do this because I know his mind hurts him. His mind sees things differently, makes it easy for Baz to get hurt. I learned this almost as soon as we began dating, and I spend every day trying to change it. He’s making progress, but there are still moments like this-- moments where he feels vulnerable, and suddenly everything becomes sharp and pointy. 

I watch him hide in his bangs, and instant regret takes over my entire mind. He explains to Dr. Wellbelove about how medically inexperienced he is, and my heart hurts. I knew he was nervous, but this is a whole new level. I wish he had told us just how unprepared he was. I wish he didn’t feel like he needed to hide his discomfort. 

**BAZ**

Now that I felt a little more secure in Dr. Wellbelove’s hands, I didn’t get as concerned when he pulls out a needle. He explained what he was doing as he hooked it into my arm (it took quite some time for him to find a vein) and started sucking the blood into a tube. Before long, I felt a little lightheaded. I must’ve swayed slightly or something, because Snow set a hand on my shoulder and leaned down to look me in the eye. He appeared unhappy, but I’m not sure. 

Dr. Wellbelove was extremely concerned. He wrote something down and put his face close to mine. Then he said something-- a question?-- and furrowed his brows. 

“Uhm… What?” I ask, my voice coming out weaker than I intended. Immediately, the doctor leaned over and removed the needle. I watched, entranced, as he quickly taped a cotton ball over the area. Bunce said something (to me?), but I’m not listening. She walked into my field of vision, and she seemed unhappy as well! That bothers me. Snow and Bunce are unhappy. Dr. Wellbelove returned (I hadn’t even noticed he had left) with a cookie. He handed it to me and I stared. 

“Where did this… come from?” I ask. They ignored me. 

“It’s to raise your blood sugar. It’s not uncommon to faint while blood is taken, but I barely took 50 milliliters! I guess it must be related to the fact that you already have to consume excess blood to survive-- taking any away is probably a bad idea,” Wellbelove explained. He’s starting to make sense again. 

Huh. Did I just nearly faint? 

“You really should eat that, Baz,” Bunce chimed in, still looking worried. Oh right, I think, turning my eyes to the cookie. They dart towards Dr. Wellbelove. He seemed to have detected my sudden tension. Turning away, he made himself busy by detaching the needle from the tube and pouring my blood into a few small vials. Covering my mouth with my hand, my fangs pop out when I open it, and I quickly shoved the entire cookie in. When I finished, Dr. Wellbelove turned back towards me. 

“Do you feel well enough to continue with the biopsy?” He asked. 

“Yes. Did you get enough blood?” My fangs hadn’t retracted completely yet, so my words had a subtle lisp to them. 

“You don’t need to worry about that,” Wellbelove said warmly. He gave me a soft smile. I had a weird feeling around him-- oddly safe. It unsettles me how _settling_ he is. 

It’s that damn dad energy. 

I mentally shook my head, and got ready to do whatever the hell a _biopsy_ is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why can’t you indent on ao3???


	3. Red Flags

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi!! this chapter contains triggering content (malnutrition, eating disorders), so if that is a concern for you, stop reading right at the “Dr. Wellbelove” POV section and skip to the end. i will summarize in the notes!

**PENNY**

Agatha’s dad wants to determine why sunlight hurts Baz. 

The second Simon discovered that Baz was being serious about sunlight burning him, he bought Baz about fifteen big sun hats. I think Basil teared up when Simon gave him the first one. Personally, I would’ve relaxed after the fifth hat, but Baz still gets emotional every time Simon acknowledges a “vampire trait.” 

At first, Baz wore them to please Simon. Plus, what else was he gonna do with, like, ten new hats? Considering how trash Simon’s fashion sense is, he did a pretty good job buying Baz hats. Almost all of the hats are made of a synthetic straw material-- classic summer-hat form. A lot of them even have a cute little ribbon encircling the top part. There’s enough of them to match any of Baz’s outfits, whether he dresses in a flamboyant floral suit, a simple off-white button up, or a semi-goth semi-punk black get up. While he never _disliked_ them in the first place, they definitely grew on him. His favourite is an extremely wide-brim one, with black straw and a stark white ribbon. There’s a small knot-like bow on one side, and the ends of the ribbon hang off the side. It’s pretty cute. I steal it a lot. 

When _I_ discovered that sunlight hurts Baz, I sat him down and forced him to tell me very detail. He said it felt like a spontaneous rash that only stung sharper if he rubbed or scratched. While he’s an absurdly cold-natured person, his skin feels unhealthily hot in the areas that the light contacts. Thin clothes prevented every symptom, aside from an easily ignored tenderness. Even after he returns to the shade, his skin still feels uncomfortably warm. Only the direct sunlight affects him. Eventually, he even admitted that he keeps his discomfort quiet every single time the UV light touches him. 

Following our discussion, I went out and bought the most stylish and practical sun protection possible (using Basil’s bank account). Silky under-clothes, at least three large pairs of sunglasses, lightweight gloves (fingerless and non), gallons of sunblock, and even bloody parasols (no hats). 

I forced him to try on everything I bought (I didn’t spend Baz’s money for the stuff to collect dust in his wardrobe). I could tell he was emotionally compromised even though he tried to pretend that I was wasting his time. I still beam with pride every time he totes a parasol with him, or I notice that he’s wearing gloves. He just beams whenever he looks at them. 

The prospect of getting some kind of diagnosis, or at least a half-assed medical explanation, was incredibly intriguing. Even if it didn’t change anything, the information would be nice to know. 

The four of us stepped outside so Basil could stick his hand into the sun. 

**BAZ**

I extended my hand out of the safety of the clinic’s shadow. We were in the back of the building, so there was a thin strip of shade just beside the brick wall. Instantly, I felt a burning. It’s similar to the way my magic feels-- like a grease burn. However, my magic is familiar, and the heat doesn’t feel like pain to me. The same cannot be said for sunlight. 

My knuckles flushed, but otherwise, there was no visible reaction. Internally, the heat and energy felt like it was building inside my skin cells, bursting painfully. I wanted to scratch away the odd feeling, but that would only make my hand feel more raw. Dr. Wellbelove said that I only needed to expose my skin for around ten seconds based off of how I described my symptoms, so I withdrew my hand and held it close. If I weren’t so practiced in not showing pain, I would have flinched. 

We made our way inside, returning to the testing room we had been in. As soon as we stepped inside, Dr. Wellbelove made himself busy by running a sterilizing wipe over my palm and preparing a syringe of what he explained was an anesthetic. I didn’t mention that it probably wouldn’t work on me. He sat me down on one of the reclined chairs and removed a small razor from a pack on the counter. 

He removed a small sample of my skin just beside the cross-shaped scar, and taped a bandage over it. I watched with fascination and mild disgust as he took the slip of skin and set it into a petri dish, discarding it along with the vials of my blood. 

He turned with his hands on his hips, looking finally satisfied. 

“The results will probably come back soon-- we don’t have to same waiting period as a hospital.” The professional illusion was broken by his goofy smile. He, Snow, and Bunce exchanged farewells, and the three of us began making our way towards the entrance area. Dr. Wellbelove called for me to wait. 

“I just want to show him a few options for his brace, and talk about some more long-term plans,” he explained when the other two paused. He lead me to his office and shut the door behind him. He sat down heavy, facing me with a more serious facial expression. Although I’m certain I presented as more composed, his turn of tone made me anxious. 

**DR. WELLBELOVE**

There were a number of red flags in my mind while examining Basilton Pitch. Aside from the obvious-- his blood clot, the severe reaction to the sun-- there were a few things that stuck out to me, gradually creating a pattern. 

While he didn’t actively flinch when I touched him, I was trained to notice the way he tensed, and his nervous eyes. Evident from his lack of concern over receiving no previous medical attention and the timeline of his leg injury, Basilton didn’t show a typical amount of self-preservation. He was unsettlingly proficient in masking fear or discomfort. The way he looked so unaccustomed to my consideration or fatherly attitude (I am self-aware!) gave me a fiercely protective need. 

Above all of these things, what concerned me the absolute most were the little physical abnormalities. Hidden under muscle and supernatural ability. Dry and pale skin (I have a suspicion that the paleness isn’t entirely vampire caused, just correlated). The slightly sunken cheeks and boney joints that conflicted with his overall fitness, which could definitely be passed off as natural to anyone who didn’t have a medical career or the experience of dealing with kids. The absurdly slow healing of his leg couldn’t be entirely excused away with “vampire science.” 

His instant fear at the prospect of eating something as simple as a _cookie_ in front of me was the cherry on top. 

**BAZ**

“What do vampires need to consume?” 

Huh. That certainly wasn’t what I was expecting. My neutral face slipped with surprise. 

“... Blood, food, and water?” 

He nodded solemnly. 

“How much food?” 

“What?” 

“How much food do you think you need to eat, say, daily?” 

I had a strange dread. 

“This isn’t… related to my leg, is it?” 

Dr. Wellbelove shook his head slowly. 

“Well, in a way, yes. Just answer the question please.” 

Fuck. He was using his dad voice. I squirmed uncomfortably. 

“Ah.. around once every two days? Give or take a good bit.” 

The doctor looked like he just had his worst suspicions confirmed. 

“Basilton,” he hesitated, “you’re malnourished.” 

The room was silent for a long moment. My face contorted, feeling anger towards this man for the first time. How dare he assume this? He doesn’t know anything about me or my species! To claim something so, so _unfair_ was an extreme offense. Before I could voice any of this, he cut in. 

“There are multiple physical signs, and you just confirmed them by saying you eat once a day at most. I’m sure the tests will further prove it, but I have to ask,” he pleaded with genuine distress (even I couldn’t deny that he was more than medically interested), “what gave you the idea that you didn’t need to eat as much anymore?” 

Holding back a snappy response, I stopped and actually thought about it. I wasn’t sure when I got that idea. My mind involuntarily forced images of me, feeling unnaturally fatigued even though I had certainly drank enough blood. Having a hard time focusing, although I knew I had enough blood. Uncomfortable cold sensation _no matter how much blood I drank_. I felt like my entire body deflated when it really hit me that Dr. Wellbelove was _correct._ I couldn’t really wrap my mind around it; did I really need to eat the same amount as a normal human? I’d spent almost as long as I can remember convinced that I could go much longer and stay much healthier than any _living_ person without solid food. And what about the numpties? I survived on only blood for _six weeks._

With dread, I thought back to how long a living person actually can go in total starvation. The information was somewhere in my mind, tucked away after hearing it once or twice. Eight to twelve weeks. That’s how long it takes for total starvation to become fatal. The dread came to a head when I remembered that _six weeks fits in that time frame._ Any residual anger slid off of my face. I felt my hand cover my mouth, but I wasn’t thinking about it. My mind was stuck-- realising Dr. Wellbelove was right was shocking, but my mind was only repeating _“six weeks fits the time frame.”_

Six weeks fits the time frame. I need to eat more. I don’t eat enough. I’m malnourished. Six weeks fits that time frame. 

Dr. Wellbelove had moved in front of me, standing. He outstretched his hand like he wanted to rest it on my shoulder comfortingly, but he knows he should wait until I let it happen. I let it. 

We stand still and silent for a moment, before the doctor quietly speaks again. 

“I can keep this information private, but I would rest much easier knowing you told at least Simon.” I couldn’t meet his eyes. Instead, I thoughtlessly nodded. When I didn’t hear anything else, I forced myself to look up at Dr. Wellbelove. He had a skeptical expression on his face. 

“I will,” I voiced roughly, meaning it that time. I don’t know how I made the decision so quickly. I guess it’s a good thing, considering I was trying to be more open with Simon. And in general. 

Crowley, it’s fitting that I would get a test so dramatic. 

My mind went back to last Christmas, back when Snow and I were still almost trying to be enemies. 

_“Is it like, anorexia?” Snow had asked when I repetitively refused to eat in front of other people._

 _“No, you dolt. Do you even know what anorexia is?” I shot back._

How on earth did Snow see it before me? 

That caught me off-guard: did I just imply to _myself_ that I have an eating disorder? Before I got too deep in judgement, I ran through what just happened in Wellbelove’s little office. 

Maybe it’s not too much of a stretch to consider that. 

The next few minutes went by in a blur-- the doctor moved on and recommended a few stretches for my leg, but notified me that there may be permanent damage. That will sink in later, I thought to myself. He gave a brief run-through on mobility aid options if I chose to invest in one. He said the only things I should really consider is a cane or forearm crutch, at least to keep for the bad days. The Leg Days. 

Even though I still wore the brace, my leg had shifted to the back of my mind. I came here to get a clearer view on my problems, not add a new one. A big new one. 

I just want to go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for those who skipped: in the wellbelove section, he says he noticed signs of malnutrition in baz. he confronts baz about this during their conversation, and baz gets upset at the idea of having a disorder. eventually, he believes wellbelove, and that is where it cuts off! i hope this helped :)


	4. A Rose By Any Other Name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, a tw for eating disorders! basically at one point baz researches them, and he tells simon and penny.

**SIMON**

Baz fell asleep almost as soon as the car started moving. This time around, the trip would take its natural time. All three of us were tired. 

The sun was setting when we got home. Mostly asleep, Baz actually let me carry him. (Even with the brace, the stairs would be a struggle, and lifts were much too enclosed for him to avoid a panic attack). Penny smiled fondly when she thought I wasn’t looking-- even _she_ can’t deny the cuteness of a sleeping Baz in my arms, I thought triumphantly. 

Getting inside the flat, I gently laid my love into our bed. I reflected over the day while I tenderly removed his outer layers and his shoes. I felt worried. My anxiety over his leg had been soothed after Dr. Wellbelove said that he would be sending prescriptions (he wanted to analyse the blood test results first before he gave Baz any blood thinners), but I had a bad feeling. Baz looked too pale, and he seemed distracted. I think maybe the “long-term plans” chat in Dr. Wellbelove’s office scared him. It would make sense. It didn’t seem like he really understood the gravity of this situation, and the prospect of needing a mobility aid is more permanent than any of us really considered. Penny and I are here to support him through anything, though. 

I laid down, pressing my front to his back. I slipped the pendant from around my neck, my wings and tail fluttering back into existence. I stretched them and curled my wings around us, mimicking the arms that held Baz. My face buried itself in his long hair. I tried not to think about my worry, about the events of today, but I could never be able to keep Baz off of my mind. 

I hugged him a little tighter and whispered into the quiet of the apartment. 

“I love you, Bazzy.” 

**BAZ**

I woke early to feed. Just outside of the city, I could smell the difference in the air. Normally, I felt cold and wanted to get back home to Snow and Bunce as soon as I could, but I needed a second away this morning. Full and at ease, I sat down at the base of a tree. I rested my eyes and gave myself a few moments to reflect on my most recent predicament. 

Pulling out my phone, I did a quick google search on _eating disorders_. About a million results popped up, mostly articles. I clicked on the first one, a National Institute of Mental Health article. It listed through the more common types, but I didn’t feel a connection to any of them. I went back to the search page and clicked around some more. A few of the websites mentioned that even if I didn’t fit a specific type, I could still be classified as having an eating disorder. Reading the listed symptoms made me feel slightly sick, a sort of “ _oh fuck_ ” feeling in my gut whenever one of them struck a chord. Eventually, I felt like I had a need to run away from the information somehow, or at least just move to dislodge the rapidly quickening thought processes in my head. 

Even though I practically ran, the walk home felt hours longer than it was. 

**SIMON**

I woke up close to 7 AM, arms feeling cold and empty. I dragged myself out of bed and my tail and wings lazily followed behind. I ventured into the kitchen and started preparing coffee on autopilot. While the water heated, my eyes wandered around the apartment. Through the glass door that lead to the little balcony, I spotted a figure smoking over the railing. Perking up, I made my way to him. 

I wrapped my arms around Baz from behind, gently kissing his hair. He smiled and turned his head, meeting my lips with his. I wrinkled my nose and moved my face away. 

“You taste like cigarettes,” I told him. He chuckled. He tapped the cigarette to his lips, softly casting **_A Rose By Any Other Name_**. 

“That better?” Baz teased, pushing our mouths together again. This time, he tasted sweet and sour-- a deliciously similar combo to cherry scones. I laughed into his mouth and grabbed him tighter, turning his body to face mine and moving my arms up to hug him from the shoulders. He parroted the movement, dancing into my embrace and resting his own arms on my waist. We swayed back and forth without music for a few minutes, just cuddling and welcoming each other to the morning. His cigarette simmered, forgotten between his fingers. His mouth always preferred mine over the nicotine. 

Our foreheads pressed, and his eyes were closed when I opened mine. I studied his face. Although he was happy in this moment, he looked tired. Emotionally tired. I moved my hand to brush his hair, and his eyes opened slowly. Staring into each other, we could both feel the love and concern in the air. I’m normally not a very perceptive person, but Baz was another realm. I could spot the slightest shift in his atmosphere. I knew he was much more observant than I in general, so we both just stared, pretending the other didn’t notice the disturbance. 

The spell was broken when Penny walked out of her bedroom noisily. A few seconds later, there was a shout. 

“Who let the coffee get cold?” 

Baz laughed quietly, still gazing at me. I felt myself laughing too, the odd tension we had disappearing for the time being. It didn’t resurface until later that night. 

**BAZ**

Just as I watched the sunrise on the balcony, I stood in the same spot while it set. I had one of my (many) sunhats on this time, keeping my face comfortable. I inhaled deeply through a cigarette, letting the nicotine calm my nerves. My mind was heavy, but I still noticed Bunce quietly stepping onto the platform behind me. 

“Agatha called,” she declared, shutting the door behind her. I hummed in response. 

She made her way to the railing, resting her hands on it and watching the sunset. The balcony felt mildly cramped now, but that didn’t bother me like it would if it was a closed room. I came out here a lot, when the walls feel dangerously close to falling in on me. My breathing always calmed in the fresh air. It’s a good place for a cigarette too-- I avoided smoking in the flat, trying to keep it fresh for Bunce and Snow. I could cast a quick spell to avoid myself smelling, but there’s simply too many items inside the house. Bunce especially appreciated that. 

“Yeah,” she said, “her dad mentioned that we had stopped by.” 

“I expected that,” I answered her. Looking at her, my eyes traced the way the golden sun painted her brown skin, turning it into a dark caramel hue. The strong lighting made her seem rounder and fuller. The saturation made her feel more alive and comforting. She tended to prefer cooler colors, but I made a note to myself to give her some yellow clothes. Our eyes met. 

“She said he sounded worried,” Bunce stated. My heart skipped a beat. 

“Oh, did she now?” 

“Yep. And, well, I don’t remember anything feeling particularly concerning by the end of our visit.” 

“It could have been the test results,” I tried. 

“He would have called us by now,” she refuted. I fell silent. 

I could practically hear her thinking _at_ me. I rolled my eyes. 

“He said some other things to you at the end,” Bunce said, more of a declaration rather than a question. I sighed dejectedly, and any sense of victory that Bunce had dissipated. 

She stepped a little closer and I let her set a hand on my arm. I turned my head away. My hand covered my mouth nervously. I think it unsettled Bunce-- she’s attentive, and probably noticed my trepidation. I glanced at her face and saw it had become very concerned. _Crowley,_ I am so tired of everyone being _concerned_! My frustration showed. 

I looked away again and cleared my throat. 

“I have a,” I paused, “a problem.” 

She looked at me expectantly. 

“Wellbelove.. He said that I have a… a-” my breath caught in my throat, and oddly enough, I couldn’t make myself say those two words. I focused on pushing syllables out of my mouth. 

“He said that I’m malnourished,” I said instead. 

Bunce didn’t respond. I don’t think that was what she was expecting to hear. I decided to beat around the bush a bit. 

“He said that… that it’s my fault.” I fearfully raised my eyes to meet her’s. She had an odd look on her face, like she couldn’t decide whether to be angry or sad, and that she wasn’t even done processing the information yet in the first place. After the longest few seconds of my life, it seemed to click, and her face morphed into one of sorrow. Her hand on my arm held on a little tighter. She moved in a way that I knew she desperately wanted to hug me, and I allowed her to initiate contact for the second time that day. I stood still while she wrapped her arms around me and buried her face into my chest. I breathed heavily into her pastel hair, feeling like my chest had almost been crushed until the exact moment I told another person. Her hands came up to caress my own hair. 

“It’s gonna be okay, Baz,” she whispered. I nodded, finally lifting my arms and weakly hugging her back. My throat closed painfully and my eyes burned, and so I cried for the first time since Dr. Wellbelove gave me the news. 

**SIMON**

The same feeling that made me worried this morning lingered throughout the day. Baz acted almost normal, but there wasn’t the same confidence in his eyes. At one point, I saw Penelope and Baz on the balcony, looking like they were having a serious conversation. I tried not to watch them too much, but I couldn’t help my anxious stares when they hugged each other (Baz isn’t exactly a _hugger_ ). 

His eyes were red when he walked back inside, and he had forgotten to clear the smoke smell from his breath. He quietly joined me on the couch, curling up in my side. We didn’t speak, but I knew from his eyes, his slight grip on my pant leg, and the initiation of contact that he needed comfort. I gently brushed through his hair with my fingers. We stayed like that for at least an hour, quietly coexisting while the telly played. 

After a while, I got up to shower, and when I moved to the bedroom to get dressed, Baz sat on the bed. He watched me with a familiar intensity as I dried off and pulled on a pair of boxers, moving close to me when I laid next to him. Times like these, when he seems only able to stare lovingly, I simply wait for him to speak. I felt content to let him trace various parts of my face and body while he mulled over whatever had been troubling him. There was another long bout of silence as we laid in bed, soaking in each other's company. 

**BAZ**

After Snow moved to the shower, I migrated to our bedroom. I listened to him sing while I changed out of my layers, my heart nearly bursting when he sounded particularly cute. After a second, I determined it was one of those upbeat, acoustic songs he found and got obsessed with on Youtube. 

He rarely sang real words, always getting tripped up in them, no matter how slow. He struggled enough with typical speaking; adding in notes and pitches just threw him off. Because of this, Snow only ever sang when he didn’t mean to. Cooking, bathing, getting ready in the morning-- these were the only times I was blessed by his sweet little _na, na, na, bum-buh-dum_ ’s. And that was if I was lucky. I’ve told him time and time again how precious it is, but he refuses to purposefully do it for me. I think it’s like a switch for him, something he can’t just turn on. 

That only makes it cuter, in my opinion. 

When he stepped into the room, I silently followed the lines of his body. I counted his freckles, admired his stretch marks, and envied the drops of water that dripped down his round stomach. The second Simon was beside me, I moved to touch him (just grazing my knuckles over his skin was enough to make me fall in love all over again). He gently placed his hand over my stomach, and it fluttered. He let me stall what I really wanted to bring up. 

I promised Dr. Wellbelove that I would tell Simon. I already told Bunce, but that only made me feel more obligated to tell Simon, my boyfriend, the love of my life. I swallowed nervously. 

“Hey, sunshine,” I greeted belatedly. He grinned goofily. 

“Hey, Bazzy.” 

“... How are you?” Damn it, I’m still stalling. Simon seemed a little surprised, but let it slide. 

“Uh… good. You?” 

I nodded weirdly, breaking eye contact. He gave me time to tell him what was on my mind (which, right now, was _I love him so fucking much_ ). 

“There’s something,” I drew out the sentence, thinking about phrasing, “that I should tell you.” 

He hummed in response. My mouth opened and closed, and I let the indecisiveness show. Simon’s hand, which had been resting on my stomach, comfortingly rubbed in small circles. His other hand came up to hold my face. I leaned into his touch desperately, closing my eyes. My brows scrunched up as I felt more distressed. 

“Dr. Wellbelove… at the clinic, he said that he saw signs of a, a--” I break off, getting emotional much quicker than I had with Bunce. All of the stress and world-flipping news finally crushed me, and I was falling apart in Simon’s arms. I made an ungodly sound deep in my throat, and I buried my face in the pillow to hide. Being the best boyfriend in the world, Simon just held me tighter and whispered in my ear, similar to what he had done the day before in the examination room. The embarrassment and shame of acting so raw so frequently tore at me, as well as the stress at the implications of Wellbelove’s conclusion. I gripped onto Simon’s back and moved to bury myself in his chest instead. 

Once my crying had quieted, he pulled away and cupped my face with his hands, forcing me to look up at him with my ugly, tear-stained expression. 

“Baby, you’ve _got_ to tell me what this is about,” he said seriously. I nodded, hating how my chin wobbled. A breathed heavily for a bit, trying to slow my thoughts. 

“You were right,” I said, unable to continue for a second. 

“Right about what?” 

“What you said a long time ago… about… about my eating habits.” 

His face twisted in confusion for a moment, until he remembered. Remembered seeing the signs, asking, and being shot down, remembered suspecting that I had some type of eating disorder. He looked at me with the saddest look I had seen on him in a long time, breath quickening. His hands and arms moved to hug me close, skin on skin, heartbeat on silence. He held onto me like he was scared I would waste away right then and there, and he continued to breathe heavily over my shoulder. 

“Oh Baz, oh baby, we’ll fix this,” Simon soothed. “I got you. I promise, I promise, I got you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the song simon was singing was 24 / 7 / 365 by surfaces: https://youtu.be/kxE-bjP-U8g


	5. So Stop Smoking!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one hella short lmao but u know. it’s cute

**BAZ**

Dr. Wellbelove wasn’t kidding when he said the wait would be much shorter than usual hospitals-- the combo of magic and a small waiting list did wonders. We were woken up by Bunce wrapping on our door, her muffled voice talking to someone on the phone. Snow got up to open the door, and I blearily watched his beautiful back. She said goodbye to the caller and announced that the test results had come in. She had written down all the medical terms the doctor had used, showing us her little notepad. I squinted my eyes at the cramped letters that were shoved in my face. 

“- _hypercoagulation (thick blood)_

_-he has extra blood cells?_

_-stop smoking_

_-high blood pressure_

_-polymorphic light eruption_

_-vitamin d deficiency_ ” 

I groaned and rolled over. 

“Let me deal with whatever that is after I’ve gained consciousness,” I pleaded. 

Bunce grumbled something, but left me alone. 

About thirty minutes later, I emerged from the bedroom, fully dressed and composed. I was only limping slightly today, but I still put on the brace. Bunce bounced over from the kitchen once she saw me. 

“Okay! So,” she started, much too energetic for the morning. “Here’s the run-down: Dr. Wellbelove decided to send the blood for a D-Dimer test, an INR, a full blood count, and a Vitamin D test. He determined that, because of the combo between drinking blood and smoking, your blood is hypercoagulated. That means it’s like, super thick. That’s why your leg clotted so bad. So stop smoking! Also, your blood pressure is really high because of it.” Still coffee-less, I blinked for a second, taking in her rush of information. Snow, who was sipping a mug of something (probably coffee, the lucky bastard) listened. 

“Go on,” I said. 

“Uh,” she glanced at the notepad that was on the nearby table, “You’re severely low on Vitamin D, which makes sense, because of the sun thing. Speaking of that, it turns out you have Polymorphic Light Eruption.” 

I raised an eyebrow. 

“It’s an autoimmune disease, where you get rashes from UV light. I guess all vampires probably have it. Maybe it’s because you’re all half-dead or something, so you have less natural sun protection,” she speculated. I felt a little more awake now, and I nodded thoughtfully. I suppose that she already told Snow, seeing as he didn’t ask any questions. I wandered into the kitchen, and fruitlessly attempted to make myself breakfast. The other two watched me like a hawk-- I never eat breakfast. Snow came over to me, kissing the back of my neck. I’m sure I seemed lost, because he directed my hand towards a top cabinet, where cereals resided. I looked over my shoulder and kissed his nose as a thanks. 

When I went to the fridge, I noticed that _Vitamin D supplements_ had been added to the grocery list. I smiled to myself. 

I sat down at the little table. Another few minutes passed in comfortable silence, before Bunce spoke up again. 

“On the topic of Dr. Wellbelove, we should really consider the more serious topics from that visit.” 

I nervously looked back and forth between the two of them, but kept my face bored out of habit. 

“We discussed it this morning,” Bunce began and, oh, so they talked about that as well? “And we just want you to know that we both love you _so much._ ” She had an intense look in her eyes that made it impossible for me to keep me face straight. “And we are here for you.” 

Snow reached across the table and held my hand. The morning sun fell through the window, lighting up our embrace as if he was using magic. Through the filter of glass, the sunlight only felt warm and nice, mimicking how Simon’s touch felt on my heart. Looking at the two of them, I bit down the urge to tell them how parental they were acting. My mouth opened, and I wanted to tell them how much I loved them too, but instead I only sat there, opening and closing like a fish. I ended up just nodded vigorously, lifting Simon’s hand to shakily press a kiss to it. 

Bunce glanced at Simon with a pained expression. It occurred to me that for some reason, they might feel guilty for this. Desperate to destroy that possibility, I grabbed her hand and held it tight. She looked surprised, and squeezed back. Without thinking, I brought their hands together and held them close to my heart. It was odd, but they both looked touched. I gave them a hesitant smile. Penny returned it fondly, and Simon ran a hand through my hair affectionately. The three of us moved a little closer together (which was awkward at the little table), and we peacefully sat for a while. 

I thought about how much my life had changed in only one year. One year ago, I could not be touched. One year ago, I believed Simon Snow hated me. One year ago, I was alone and never expected any different. I believed every flaw was a failure, and so I hated everything about me. I intended to die at the hands of the love of my life. One year ago, I wanted to. 

And here I sat, just over twelve months after that fateful Christmas, surrounded on both sides by people to whom I could trust my life. Two people who truly loved every part of me, something I still struggled with. They held my hands, and without words, they promised to help me and watch over me (I haven’t had anyone like that, not really, since my mother died). They brought love, touch, and safety into my life, and I couldn’t even remember the last time I felt genuinely glad to be (almost) alive. 

I couldn’t remember the last time I felt this warm, either.


	6. Baby Steps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last chapter!! its just a super short lil epilogue. i’ve posted all of this like in the span of two days so i’m not nearly as excited as i was when i actually finished it lmao. i rlly hope u guys liked it! i just mushed all of my headcanons together tbh

**SIMON**

Baz and I made it a night, scouring the internet for the best mobility aid options. We decided that, logistically, forearm crutches would be the way to go. Cuddling together on the sofa, we browsed various sites and researched different types and accessories. We ended up spending around $200 dollars on _mobility-aids.com_ , purchasing the crutches, extra padding, and an attachable carry-on in one go. 

Honestly, I was incredibly proud of Baz for being so progressive with this. I mean, ignore the first year and a half or so where he completely neglected his leg, but still. Kissing his cheek, I told him so. 

“You know, you’re handling this really well. I’m really proud.” 

“Well-- I--” Baz sputtered. 

He looked surprised, and then delightfully bashful, the way he always faltered whenever I praised his insecurities. Giggling, I kissed him again and again, showering him in my love and affection. The laughter was contagious, and soon we were nothing but a happy pile of kisses and cuddles on the couch. Once it subsided, we just relaxed, Baz laying underneath me. I had his face framed with my forearms, our lips close enough that I could feel his breath. My tail wrapped around his bad leg protectively. He gazed up at me, his arms wrapped around my back and just under my wing joints. He had a big, genuine smile on his face, one that I loved so much I just had to kiss it. My kisses moved down to his neck, the air from my lungs dancing along his skin, tickling him. The laughter started up again, and he playfully pushed at me. We half-wrestled a bit, laughing so hard and loving each other so much that we didn’t even notice we had fallen off the sofa until we were on the floor. A tangle of uncoordinated limbs, we found that we were too happy to move away from each other. 

The order arrived a little over a week later. It was a big box that blocked our front door from opening the entire way, frustrating me to no end. I came very close to kicking it in anger before I realised what it was. 

Thankfully, it was light for its size, so I didn’t need to haul Baz over to bring it inside. It was, incidentally, another Leg Day-- the perfect time for the crutches to show up. He hobbled over with the cane he had been using in the meantime. 

Although he wasn’t outright smiling, he had a definite glee as he tore open the package. Penny emerged from her bedroom to watch and help. Baz set his cane down and sat on the couch’s arm rest, pulling each piece out and examining it. After he removed the crutches from the plastic wrap, I moved to help him adjust them. Holding my hand, he stood upright. He held onto my shoulder to keep the weight off his leg as Penny and I positioned the crutches under his elbows and shifted the length until they were even and accurate. 

“Try it out!” I said excitedly, making sure he had them in his hands before I stepped away. Penny and I gave him a wide berth while he hesitantly put his weight on the crutches. 

“How do you feel?” Penny immediately asked. 

“With my arms,” Baz said, sarcastically. Penny rolled her eyes, but the eager smile stayed. Baz took a tentative step forward using the crutches. Then he took another, and another, going in circles and building up speed. He moved easier and faster than I’d ever seen him on a Leg Day. Looking up from ground to glance at me, Baz had a big grin on his face. As his eyes moved away from the ground, his foot caught on the leg of one crutch, and his gleeful face fell as he tumbled towards me. 

I quickly reached my arms out to catch him, keeping him from falling too far. I wrapped him up in an embrace, chuckling. Baz tried to look indignant, but he was too excited to hide how happy the mobility aids made him. He pushed away from the awkward position and stumbled a little, taking a moment to get his feet and crutches underneath him again. 

“Baby steps, Bazzy,” I laughed. “Baby steps.”

**Author's Note:**

> check me out on tumblr at @bazstastic or @beorning, or on instagram at @zauberjackl!


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